“Ready when you are.” Mr. Hamlin steps back and props the sole of his shoe against the far wall.
Cast members take their places. Music swells from the speaker. My eyes close, lips parting, and I begin the song, inflecting a raspy, whimsical cadence into my voice.
I’ve practiced this song a few dozen times. Maybe a hundred. It was my audition song, the piece that earned me the starring role, so it falls out effortlessly, without flaws or cracks.
It’s only when I open my eyes that I falter.
Lex slides into character alongside me, stepping forward, seeing me for the first time in the show.
And I realize that he’s forced to look at me this way—it’s in the script.
Enchanted, it reads.Lovesick.
Because of this, I ignore the look in his eyes, the hypnotized softening of his gaze that makes me feel seen beyond the stage.
My voice echoes throughout the auditorium as I gather the rest of my courage and belt the final notes, my arms lifted skyward, my chin tipping, eyes wrenching away from his.
When I’m finished, Lex ends the scene with his last words, whispering softly, “I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”
“Cut.” Mr. Hamlin claps beside us as the song dies out. “Lexington, minor correction to your dialogue. The script reads, ‘I’ve never seen anyone like her before.’”
Lex blinks away from me, his shoulders drooping, like his energy was zapped by the wordcut. He glances over at Mr. Hamlin. “That’s what I said.”
“No, you said, ‘I’ve never seen anyone likeyoubefore.’ You’re speaking to your fellow bohemians, not to Satine herself.”
Lex clears his throat. “Right.”
“Otherwise, that was good.” Our director rubs his lips with two fingers as the cast and crew cheer, circling around us. “Brilliant, actually, especially for a first run-through. I have a good feeling about this one.”
My smile is instant. Organic.
Lex saunters away to fetch his coffee. “Are we done?”
“You’re free to go. See you all at the next practice.”
Everyone disperses. I feel like I’m on cruise control as tendrils of excitement carry me offstage, the script crumpled in my grip. I hardly make it to the aisle before a voice stops me.
“Hey. Stevie.”
I almost don’t recognize who it is because he rarely uses my real name. Pivoting in place, I lock eyes with Lex as he jogs down the stairs. “Yeah?”
“You free tonight?”
“Oh.”
A light sheen of sweat dots his forehead as he shuffles closer.
“I think so,” I say. “You want to go over lines?”
“I mean, if you’re intimidated, I get it.”
And he’s back. “You don’t intimidate me, Lex.”
He folds his arms across a burgundy button-down. “You seemed a little frazzled up there with the eye contact.”
“First-practice jitters.”
“Of course.” Sipping his coffee that must be cold by now, he reaches into his pocket to fetch his cell phone. “Here. Add your number.”
